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[Hogwarts] Ch 180: The Chamber of Secrets
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 20:28:25 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
Inside the study space, Tom and Andros fell silent after hearing Grindelwald's words.
They glanced at each other, and the same thing flickered in their eyes: pity.
The so-called King of the Century… and yet, how many times had he been outplayed by Newt Scamander? Weren't his real battles supposed to be against Dumbledore? Why did it feel like Grindelwald had spent half his life locked in a grudge match with the magizoologist instead?
Tom suddenly understood those followers who had tried to ambush Newt last time. Honestly, Newt really did have a way of stepping on toes.
"It's all in the past, Old G," Tom said, trying to lighten the mood. "That was decades ago. No point still getting worked up. You're Gellert Grindelwald, aren't you? Try showing a little… perspective."
Grindelwald sneered. "Perspective? I know what that means. But when it comes to Scamander, all I want is to tear him limb from limb."
"Tom, if you just give Scamander a proper beating for me, my grudge will be settled."
"No way." Tom shook his head at once. "Grandpa Newt has helped me too much. Without him, I'd never have gotten my Thunderbird affinity. And besides—do you even realize the weight of a Scamander blessing? Thanks to him, half of Hufflepuff treats me like extended family. They see me and it's like a reunion with a long-lost cousin."
That was too much. Grindelwald felt the heat rise in his face. Praising Newt Scamander to his face? Really?
But he couldn't argue back. He knew better than anyone how much Newt had done for Tom.
Why had Nicolas Flamel been willing to trust Tom so quickly? Not because of Dumbledore's letter of recommendation, but because Tom had spent two solid weeks under Newt's wing.
Why had Aberforth agreed at first meeting to help Tom acquire a highly restricted magical creature like the Runespoor? Was it just Tom's face? Of course not. He wasn't Shanks.
It was Scamander's name backing him up.
For the first time, Grindelwald felt like life had flipped upside down.
Was he really being outshone by the man who spent his days chasing nifflers and bowtruckles?
Fallen from grace, caged and powerless, Grindelwald felt the full weight of defeat. If he were free outside this tower, would things still look like this?
For just a moment, he wondered if he should walk out of Nurmengard.
But the thought died almost instantly.
Out there, he wasn't the full-strength Grindelwald Tom saw here in the study space. Out there, he was just a worn-out old man, his body broken by forty years of prison. What would leaving even accomplish?
"O G, what are you thinking about?" Tom asked quietly when Grindelwald had been silent too long.
Hopefully the old man hadn't sunk into total despair.
"I was only wondering why you suddenly brought up basilisks," Grindelwald said, sounding normal again. "Planning to raise one?"
"Hardly." Tom shook his head. "Those things aren't much use."
Grindelwald chuckled. "One alone, no. But an army? That would have been another matter. If my basilisk legion had ever been completed, the outcome of the war might have been very different."
"Then you must have figured out a way to survive their gaze," Tom pressed. "I want to learn that."
"A simple spell," Grindelwald said. "All it does is create a blind spot in your field of vision with magic."
He shared the incantation. Tom mastered it on the first try—an elegant little trick that blurred out the gaze of any living creature, eliminating the risk of deadly eye contact.
Tom thought for a moment longer, then wove the magic into a runic pattern, sketching out the design for a pendant tailored specifically against a basilisk's eyes.
---
The next morning
Filch was already standing vigil at the corridor where Mrs. Norris and Penelope had been attacked, furiously scrubbing at the blood-red writing on the wall with every powerful cleaner he owned. But no matter how hard he worked, the words remained.
Tom happened by with a bag in hand. With a flick of his wand and two quick taps, the writing dissolved away—though the patch of wall left behind was suspiciously spotless compared to the rest.
"Thank you, Riddle," Filch said, unusually polite. His eyes, however, kept darting toward the bag Tom carried.
Tom gave it a little shake but didn't open it. "Don't bother. It's just mandrakes. I'm taking them to Professor Snape."
"Then off you go," Filch said quickly, forcing a smile as he stepped aside.
In Snape's office, Tom handed over the mandrakes but didn't leave right away. Instead he lingered, watching Snape work.
Snape might dismiss the restorative draught as trivial, but it was hardly beginner material—it was advanced, the kind of thing not even found in Hogwarts textbooks. Watching him prepare it was like getting a masterclass.
Snape glanced up at him. "Riddle, you've grown complacent. No new papers for weeks? Have you lost your drive?"
"I've got one, Professor, don't worry." Tom mumbled around a sandwich Astoria had packed for him. "Already gave it to Professor McGonagall. Should be out in Transfiguration Today soon."
Snape frowned, clearly baffled.
Only after Tom explained the properties of his "Fantasy Draught" did Snape understand, though his lip curled with disdain. "Frivolous. You waste your time on trinkets for mediocrities. It's people like you and me, like Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, who decide the future of this world."
Classic Snape. Never a saint, never pretending to be. His loyalty to Dumbledore had never been about virtue, only vengeance for Lily Evans.
Strip away his role in the fight against Voldemort, and what was left was pure Slytherin opportunism: he respected only what served his goals.
So while McGonagall might consider the potion a brilliant achievement, Snape dismissed it without a second thought.
Tom didn't bother arguing. "Something like this hardly takes effort. It's just about catching the right spark of inspiration."
"You'd better know what it is you're really aiming for," Snape said curtly, pointing toward the door. "Now go. Dumbledore's waiting."
Tom smacked his forehead. "Right—completely slipped my mind. I'm off."
He had forgotten that Dumbledore had invited him for morning tea. After finishing the sandwiches Astoria had packed, he wasn't particularly hungry anymore, but skipping out wasn't an option.
---
Ten minutes later, Tom stepped into the headmaster's office.
A small round table had been set up, already covered with tea and sweets. Dumbledore greeted him warmly and motioned him to sit.
"Tom, allow me to thank you on behalf of Mrs. Norris and Miss Clearwater for providing the mandrakes."
Tom voiced the question that had been nagging at him. "Professor, even if the ones in the greenhouses weren't mature yet, couldn't you have bought mandrakes elsewhere?"
In the original timeline, the petrified victims had lain in the hospital wing for nearly a year until the plants matured. Parents hadn't stormed the school over it, which had always felt like a miracle in itself.
"At least in Britain, Hogwarts is the only source," Dumbledore sighed. "All mandrakes are harvested and sold to the Ministry for antidotes. There wouldn't be any spare stock left lying around."
He shifted topics. "Tell me, what's your own view on these attacks?"
"One person," Tom said simply.
Dumbledore blinked, momentarily wrong-footed by the blunt answer.
Finishing off his lemon sorbet, Tom casually threw Snape under the carriage. "Oh, by the way, yesterday Professor Snape told me to keep an eye on Professor Wilkinson. He suspects Laos might be behind it."
"It isn't him," Dumbledore said immediately, his tone firm. "He never left his seat during the banquet. And those words scrawled on the wall… no Ilvermorny graduate would have left something like that."
Clearly, Laos had earned Dumbledore's full trust by now.
"So the Chamber really exists?" Tom asked.
After a moment's pause, Dumbledore nodded. "I don't know where it is, but the legend is not without foundation. They say Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor quarreled bitterly over who should be admitted to Hogwarts. Before leaving, Salazar supposedly built a hidden chamber in the castle, sealed until his true heir arrived to release a monster that would 'purify' the school by expelling those unworthy of magic."
"Utter nonsense!"
Phineas Nigellus Black snapped irritably from his portrait. "Hogwarts has stood for a thousand years. If there were really an heir, why would they only appear now? Every headmaster before me searched and found nothing. The Chamber of Secrets is nothing but a fairy tale."
For once, the other portraits nodded in agreement.
A bearded headmaster added, "During my tenure I practically turned this castle inside out. Never found so much as a hint of danger. And even if Salazar left something behind, it couldn't possibly endure this long."
Dumbledore listened without a flicker of irritation. "All four founders were extraordinary witches and wizards. Their enchantments have lasted a millennium, just like this castle itself. It's hardly surprising we've failed to uncover them. But do you all forget what happened fifty years ago? Moaning Myrtle still haunts the second-floor girls' bathroom."
That silenced the portraits.
"Any threat to the students must be treated seriously," Dumbledore went on. "I believe the Chamber exists, and I mean to find it—and deal with what's inside once and for all. When the girl wakes, perhaps we'll finally have our answer."
After a long silence, Phineas muttered, "I still don't buy it. Probably just an elaborate prank by an older student."
Dumbledore ignored him and turned back to Tom. "Tom, you've changed again recently in ways that remind me of a power long thought lost."
"You mean ancient magic?" Tom answered for him.
"So it really is that…" The old man chuckled softly, slipping off his half-moon glasses to polish them. "Yes. Your situation is remarkably similar to what's recorded of ancient magic wielders. I thought such arts extinct, yet here they are resurfacing."
"Just a stroke of luck. I'm still not very skilled with it," Tom admitted. "What's your take on this kind of magic, Professor?"
Dumbledore's hands stilled. "Every record describes ancient magic as the raw force of nature itself. Studying or wielding it is dangerous. My advice would be to tame the wildness, preserve its essence, and soften how it manifests."
"A clever approach."
Because of his agreement with Grindelwald, Tom always opened the study space when meeting Dumbledore, so Andros heard the headmaster's words as well.
It aligned perfectly with the next phase of Tom's training: contact nature, draw on nature, then master it. Right now Tom was still at the second step—able to channel it awkwardly but nowhere near true mastery.
"If only he weren't constantly distracted, his potential would be even greater," Andros mused.
Grindelwald lifted his chin proudly. "Dumbledore is a genius. A true polymath. Even without firsthand experience of ancient magic, he can reason his way to the truth."
Andros nodded in agreement. "No wonder he defeated you, even while you held the Elder Wand."
Grindelwald's face darkened instantly.
That was the end of that conversation.
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Comments
Coreal
It was 10 chapters i remember that day. It took 2 full days of effort But now most of my time is taken up by the dentist — I have to go every two days so he can check if the bleeding stops when he removes the temporary filling. After that, I end up sleeping a lot for some reason.
Camilo S
I still dream about the day you uploaded 5 chapters
